Of Kisses, Death, and Teacups
by Sarcastic Musician
Summary: A one-shot in which the Watsons have bad timing, and consequently interrupt an Irene/Sherlock moment. All four of them have a talk about Irene and Sherlock's 'deaths'. I'm sorry this summary sucks, but please give it a chance, it's funny and fluffy.


Hey guys/girls. I am so in love with the Irene/Sherlock pairing I have no idea what to do with myself :P They are amazing together! So I figured I had to write a fic for them and I may end up writing more if you readers actually like this one. Also I like the idea of the Watsons and these two hanging out together and what not.

Please read and review, even just a few nice words would mean so much to me.

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><p>The fight started as any other had between Ms. Adler and Holmes. Her pleasant toned words thrown through the air, eventually mixing with his own.<p>

Soon the words turned into fists, never truly landing to hurt, yet being blocked by their equal strengths. The fight went on, never too violent, but the game must go on.

Suddenly the fighting paused, the tension hanging heavy in the air. But the kind of tension changed, or rather, intensified what had always been.

Sherlock's last thought before the pull of her perfume drugged him into bliss, was the analyzation of the method he could use to get a kiss.

Having decided, he moves quickly. Grabbing her wrists and pushing her roughly, yet cautiously, against the wall, the kiss began. After a harsh gasp, Irene began kissing back. Holding her wrists above her head and putting everything into the kiss, Sherlock felt his mind being cleared, until all that was left was Irene. Her touch, her taste, and the smell of her sweet perfume.

In the back of their minds they can each hear a distant knocking.

The knocking grows louder as they take a breath, but drowns out again as they pull each other closer and continue.

A distant "Sherlock!" sounds out. But it is also lost in the feelings and moans of the two pushed against the wall.

Unfortunately, the knocking and calling were not as distant as their clouded minds had thought. A louder noise sounded as the walls shook. Unable to tear themselves away from their bliss, the couple continued.

The sound of a shriek sounded through the room successfully pulling the two apart. Turning to the source of the sound they hid their blushes at the sight of the red-faced Watsons. John working to hide his laughter with a smirk, while Mary worked to hide her embarrassment.

Turning back to each other, Sherlock and Irene slowly separated. Taking a few steps a way from Irene's spot on the wall, Sherlock ensured not to stray too far from her side.

Brushing her skirts down, Irene looked back up at the Watsons calm and composed, "Tea anyone?" She questioned slightly brushing past Sherlock in her walk toward the tea pot.

Still unable to get their mouths to work, the Watson just nodded quietly, taking their seats on two of the tattered arm chairs, while Sherlock took a seat on the sagging couch.

Bringing over two teacups and passing them to the married couple, Irene made another trip to bring two more for herself and Sherlock. Passing Sherlock his cup and settling herself beside him with her legs tucked under her, Irene sat subtly leaning on him.

After a few silent seconds. Sherlock tore his gaze away from Irene long enough to speak, "So to what do we owe the interruption?" His comment bringing the red-tinge back to the married couple's cheeks.

"We came by to get you out the house." John says, holding back his surprise as best he could.

"As you can tell we were having a rather good time being in the house." Sherlock answered with a smirk of his own, leaning a little closer to Irene.

"Are we really not going to address the fact that Irene, the same Irene who died a few weeks ago, is sitting across from us?" Mary asked her eyes still wide in shock.

"Quiet curious is it not?" John added, mind wondering. Images of his best friend crumbling after her death invading his mind.

"Only the good die young." Sherlock answered with a smirk and shrug.

"Thank you, Sherlock." Irene says with a sarcastic tone. "Darling, have you ever heard of nitrous oxide? Put a bit of it in the handkerchief along with a little red dye. Soon enough you're dead for all intents and purposes." She finished with a shrug, sipping her drink.

"I guess you truly have met your match, Sherlock." John announces his mind piecing together the scenes. He knew Sherlock must have known something after having smelt the handkerchief. He would never have done that had it been his last link to her. No he would've only done that if it would have protected her.

"Let me get this right, you each tried to/pretended to kill yourselves? I'll never understand you?" Mary exclaims.

"I heard about your antics mister how could you put yourself in that position?" Irene questioned irritation and worry shining through.

"I didn't see you consulting me on your death plan, dear. Besides if you haven't forgotten, I spent the few months I was dead finding you. You'd think she'd be grateful." Sherlock finishes looking across the cluttered coffee table to his guests for a moment before locking his eyes back onto Irene.

As their argument over past worries and concerns grew, the space between them decreased.

Quickly the married couple grabbed their things leaving, the teacups forgotten on their seats, quickly walking from the room and out of the house. Not wanting to witness what they had on the way in.

All thinking the same thing, 'Sherlock had met his match'.


End file.
